Out Of The Woods
by allioop
Summary: For a moment, after the explosion of Starkiller Base rocks her nearby planet, Alya thinks that perhaps for now it means the fighting is over, that there might be peace. Hours later she's taken from her home, taken upon a First Order ship, and she knows it can only be the beginning. [post tfa. possible canon divergence. slow burn ben/oc]
1. Chapter 1

Looking back on it, Alya couldn't imagine that she had woken up that morning with a spring in her step. By all accounts it was a normal day, she saw her regular patients and a few urgent cases, finished most of her paperwork, even had time to visit her neighbor, a mother and her young son. By that same evening she'd seen the horror of the destruction of a planet, she'd been left shaken at the very thought of it, mourned all the lives lost for a cause she couldn't imagine. By that evening she felt as if no one could talk about anything else. It was all about the First Order and what needed to be done about them, if they could keep their politically neutral position after such an attack.

Some said it was unlikely that they would be seen as an enemy, the world was small and mostly used as a farming planet. They had almost no military presence, and even if the majority of people sided with the resistance most if not all became field medics before they became soldiers. She herself had trained some of them, and turned a blind eye as they left. Glancing up at the sky, she wondered how many of them were in the fight, how many were in the Hosnian system when it disintegrated.

She'd often been criticized for her optimism, but that was a moment that it utterly failed her. It was a moment that she realized she didn't at all envy the leaders of her world, the kind of choice they had to make was no small task. Siding with the Republic meant putting themselves on a hit list, siding with the First Order meant abandoning their morals for safety. She wanted to think the choice should be easy, but the picture of the planet crumbling, exploding, everyone she knew dead in moments kept flashing through her mind and she knew it wasn't.

Even when the day was over and she was allowed to go back to her own bubble, all she could do was worry. Every comm, every holovid, every _person_ was talking about it. Just walking home she found out that Takodana had been attacked, that the resistance came to fight back. Every voice around her chattered with nervous energy, and the mundane routine that would normally be calming made her all the more fidgety. Her planet was safe, for now, and that's what they had to focus on.

It was hours later that the whispers started again.

 _The weapon is charging again. It will fire again. Who will be destroyed now?_

And sooner than she ever expected, the explosion of the star base rocked her whole planet, but it didn't have quite the emotional affect it might have. They had one system shattering weapon, they could have another. Some people cheered, some people cried, and all Alya could do was look out her window and think of how pointless it all was. She knew there were still so many dead for so little a reason, and it all just made her heart feel hollow.

But for a moment she thought it was over. That, at least for now, the First Order would have to fall back to regroup and plan for their next attack, and they might have a period of peace before the war began again. The thought doesn't keep her from jumping at every noise, doesn't stop her fingers from trembling, and maybe she should have taken that as a sign that things _weren't_ over just yet.

Because the food for her dinner just hit the table when her door caved in, and there is no chance for her to escape. She barely has the chance to look to her doorway, the one that lead to a basement and a high window she might be able to squeeze through, before she's dragged clear off her feet without an ounce of care. The mask rasps the voice of the lead trooper, he stands a head taller than her and she can feel her heart thumping against her ribcage.

"You are the healer Alya?"

It's barely a question and she knew it, but shaking in her boots wouldn't keep her alive and she knew that too. A quick nod is all she managed before they march her out of her home, surprisingly quietly. The night had fallen, and while part of her might hope that someone catches her kidnapping, a bigger part of her wanted them all to stay safe. If it's just her, she might be able to figure a way out. At least, that's what she tells herself.

Alya's feet lightly drag against the ground, they hadn't allowed her to put on shoes or even a jacket, forcing a sense of calm in herself. In a line of silent and intimidating storm troopers, there was no way she wasn't clearly outnumbered and outgunned, and she couldn't help but think that it was only bound to get worse from there.


	2. Chapter 2

Her mind raced as she was lead into the ship, small, she thought, for a First Order vessel. They called her 'the healer' Alya, not by any other title and that gave her the first hint of what they want from her. She had skill in medicine, that much was true, but there was also rumor that hung around her name. Claims that she had brought a man back from the dead. Whispers that she had the power to banish darkness from the mind. An old wives tale that she could guarantee easy childbirth in any condition.

Most of it was exaggeration, but outlandish tales spread farther than the truth. Vaguely, she wondered what kind of story they had been told to bring her into these hands.

She's sure there would be bruises on her arms when the troopers holding her come to a stop and set her down. Her eyes snap back forward, having been looking for any chance for escape and The man who stood in front of her would be intimidating even on his best day. The disheveled appearance only made him more so. There was a distinct sneer on his lips and his light ginger hair had been pushed back, in an effort to seem composed. Even with his efforts it was clear the day hadn't been easy, and she knew exactly why.

Silently she's glad for it, even if it doesn't bode well for her own safety.

He looked down at her like she's a stain on his favorite shirt, and in response she schools her features into a look of disinterest. At that moment it's her only means of defense. The mask of confidence, as if she wasn't at all concerned to be taken from her home, gave her a little bit of control. Her hands clench into fists at her sides to hide the slight tremor running through them.

"I am told," his tone was impatient, "that you are something of a miracle worker. A medic with gifts beyond that of the average."

Her lips pursed, it sounded like an insult when he says it. If a healer is what he wanted she wasn't going to put herself in danger by being humble. Not yet, anyway. Her spine straightened as she tried to make herself as tall and important as possible. It was fruitless, he and the troopers all stood a head taller than her, but it gave her a boost of confidence all the same.

"I am a healer, yes. People have called me a miracle worker, an angel, if you put stock in words."

The once over he gave her after the words leave her lips sent a shiver up her spine. She doesn't get a moment to think about the implications of it, he turned on his heal and gestures for her to follow. And with a gun pressed into her back, she has no real choice but to do so.

"For your sake I should hope it isn't just fairy tales, you have an important mission after all."

The adrenaline that pumped through her veins made her stomach drop. Made her hands shake, made her eyes take in and remember every nook and cranny of the hallways. She wanted to be able to remember if ever she got the chance of freedom. Deep down she knew it wasn't likely. That she might well die in one of those hallways, cold and alone, rather than escape.

It felt like hours before he came to an abrupt stop, in front of a door that looked the same as every other. With a swipe of his hand the door opens and she doesn't get a chance to look inside before the gun at her back turns into a hand pushing her inside. She stumbles with the force of it, her knees skidding along clinical white tile before he speaks again.

"You are to heal this man. I expect you know what happens to those who defy the Order. You can expect the same of you and your planet, indeed this whole system, if you fail."

She had never seen a man so smug with himself in her life. For a split second she stared up at him in disbelief, trying to wrap her mind around what he was telling her. The words 'good luck' almost seem to hang in the air between them and the door slides closed, and for a moment she allows herself to panic. She doesn't know where she is, where the ship will go, who she's supposed to heal and what he had done-

But- _heal_ , that's something she can do. It's what she left her home to learn as a teenager, it's what she had trained for years to do. It's something she can focus on, something to spend all the energy speeding through her on. Three deep breaths. That's all she gave herself before pushing up the sleeves of her sweater and standing to face her patient.

He was unconscious, that's the first thing she noticed and it was an instant relief, but the only relief. His chest rose and fell uneven, his brow furrowed, and in a second she tried to catalog all the injuries. The trained healer in her sorted them into superficial wounds and life threaten ones. There were many more of the latter than she was completely comfortable with. If her life, and the lives of those on her planet, depended on this man staying alive her odds weren't great.

There were no meddriods around, which was why she had been taken, she assumed. The bay was stocked in the basic gear she would need, at least, and that was a relief. Alya grabbed the nearest well stocked med bag and took a few uneasy steps forward. It's another second before she can push aside the idea that she's saving the life of a First Officer solider. A solider who could have killed resistance fighters, who had been apart of the attacks. And most likely an important one, if it was worth the effort to kidnap her to keep him alive.

He was young, she focused on that fact above the rest. If he was young there was still potential for redemption, she had to believe that.

She had to believe that.


	3. Chapter 3

The worst wound was the blast to his side. She knew that had to be the one she treated first, before all the rest, if she was going to save him. Her eyes ran over the burnt patches of skin she could see through the holes in his clothes, making a mental list. Side first, then his leg, shoulder and then-

Her fingers traced, careful, over the diagonal burn across his face. Not threatening to his life, but also important.

She let her mind go as fast as it needed, her hands only barely able to follow her thoughts. Cool the burns, disinfect, cut away any burnt clothing, try to make sure bones and organs were intact. Her hands had been shaking since the moment she was taken, but when she focused on the task at hand they held steady.

She took the instant ice packs and hit them against her leg to activate, shuffling through the bag for anything else she could use. It was well stocked, as she noted before, but she would still have to make due with some shortcuts. Scissors are next, and she spared a quick look at his features before cutting through the fabric that could get in her way. He wouldn't be happy, if he woke up, but at least he would be alive.

As soon as the ice packs are completely cold she pressed them to each wound, two to his side, and took a second to think. Were these _lightsaber_ wounds? She hadn't heard of anyone using one since the last days of the empire. Hopefully they could be healed just as any burn or she could be in trouble.

Alya swallowed down her growing unease about her new patient, leaning forward to check his ribs. A blast at the right angle could effortlessly break bone, and a broken rib could cause a whole host of other problems she'd need to deal with. She pulled away the fabric, careful to make sure it wasn't stuck to any burnt skin, looking for any visible bruising. Without thinking, she reached forward to press gingerly where she can she the bottom of his rib cage. Her fingers barely just make contact with skin when a sudden prickling sparks up the back of her neck and she jumps back.

His eyes were open and looking at her, arm raised as if he had taken a swing.

For a second she thought that he might not be as young as she first thought, but then his hand shot out towards her and a pressure took hold of her throat. It was a jedi trick, she knew, but he did _not_ look like a jedi.

She began to think that would be the end, the man she tried to save strangling her with the force, when he attempted to sit up. The rush of pain, she knew there would be a lot, seemed to knock the wind out of him enough for her to take a breath.

"You can't sit up, you're injured."

For a moment he doesn't seem to care about her words, but she watched as his hands shook with the effort and soon he had no hold over her. Even from a distance she could hear his breaths rattling in his chest and see how his face twisted in pain at every inhale. Even if she was certain he was a dangerous man to keep alive, she was also certain she couldn't let him die.

"You need to keep still," she used her most gentle voice, she didn't want another attack, "you could make it worse."

His hand falls, but his eyes stay open and watching her. When she stepped forward he didn't stop her, or attempt to strangle her again, so she continued forward to check his ribs. He didn't trust her, she couldn't blame him, but he at least let her do her work.

Her fingers pressed against the skin again, her eyes glancing to his to gauge his reaction.

"If this hurts, if it's hard to breathe, it means you have bruised or broken ribs. It _means_ no moving."

There isn't much response, only a twitch of his features that she can't read. It's good because with him staring at her her nerves had come back, and she hoped he wouldn't just outright kill her for talking out loud.

"The real problem is the burn here, I'm going to have to disinfect it and that's going to hurt. About as much as _getting_ it, but the others shouldn't need too serious care."

She took the disinfectant spray from the med pack and looked down at him, already grimacing. "Do you want anesthetic? It's going to hurt."

Honestly, she didn't expect a response, already moving to dig around for it, and his voice startles her.

"No. I don't need it."

" _Really_." She tried to sound sincere, but it was a spectacular failure.

His jaw tightened and his eyes moved to the ceiling above their heads. It was a move she'd seen many times by people who didn't want to see what was about to happen to them. She didn't want to see it either, but she didn't have much choice.

"Alright, it's your decision I guess."

He didn't want a warning and she didn't give him one, moving quick and spraying the disinfectant over every inch of charred skin. What managed to surprise her, as she moved to grab a few packs of clean cloth, was that he didn't make a sound. The muscles tensed around the wound, and she watched his jaw work as pain rolled over his features, but no noise. It was commendable. She'd treated grown men who boasted about being tough and cried as much as any child. But then it also made her wonder what had happened to him in the past that made this seem easy to bear.

Even in his silence, the pain was wearing him down. It had nothing to do with personal will or strength, his body was just taking in all the rest it could to heal. She watched his eyes droop as she pressed the linen to his wound, and she had a feeling he would be out for a while at least. Hopefully long enough for her to patch the rest of him up before the red haired man from before came back to check on them.

In comparison to the hole nearly blasted into his side, the other injuries were almost easy. The same routine: cold pack, disinfectant, clean cloth compress to slow any bleeding. Each time she worried her patient would wake up in the same fashion as before, but he stayed still and quiet.

And after it was done, her arms and front covered in blood, she just wondered what happened next. What would they do with her now?

* * *

 _Hello it's your friendly neighborhood author here! I don't normally do authors notes, but I did want to touch on a few things. Mostly that I am no doctor, and all my information is coming from my nurse friend and google, so excuse anything that doesn't make sense. Also trying to bridge modern medicine with the Star Wars universe has been tricky so please have patience there as well. Lastly, I know I do have some trouble with my tenses. I reread every chapter at least twice but I still miss things. Be kind! I try to update twice a week so please tell me how I'm doing, all your thoughts, what you'd like to see in the future, and any comments questions or concerns._


	4. Chapter 4

It had to have been hours before anything happened. Her patient was out cold, for now, and the room she was trapped in wasn't the largest or grandest. She had managed to clean the blood from her arms, though she knew her clothes was likely stained with it. There wasn't much else for her to do, sleep was the best thing he could do to heal but she had no part in that. Looking through the med pack for anything to help her escape ended up useless. The best weapon turned out to be the scissors and they would be only a minor annoyance to a storm trooper.

So she set herself up in the one chair in the room, watching for any changes, thinking about what must be coming next. They asked her to keep that man alive and she'd done her job. Would they kill her? Would they keep her as a prisoner? Would they put her to work after seeing her skill? She wondered if they might feel indebted to her, but it seemed outlandish even to think it.

And when her thoughts started running themselves into circles, her attention turned towards the man resting in front of her. She didn't even know his name.

Her first thought about him had been that he seemed young. The frown lines and furrowed eyebrows relaxed while he slept and he did seem at least younger than her. But when he was awake and all the years he'd lived showed on his face and she couldn't been sure. She checked his wounds once again, and couldn't help but trace the line that crossed over his nose. If that had been the only thing she was treating, if she hadn't felt watched, it was likely she could have healed it completely. Without a scar. It wasn't a risk she could take, not on a First Order solider. Not on a man with light saber wounds.

She was just smoothing the edges of the patch back into place when the door behind her slid open. In an instant she was on her feet, posture tense and ready to run if she needed to, and the troopers parted to allow the red haired man from before inside. One of them nodded to him as he stepped forward, "General Hux, sir."

 _Hux_ , she thought to herself. It was an abrasive and cold sort of name, and giving the man a once over she decided it suited him.

"Report." For a moment she wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or her guards, but his eyes narrowed and snapped to her after the seconds pause. "How is he, then? Not dead, I presume."

" _I_ presume I would also be dead by now if that were the case," she couldn't help but bite out back at him, quickly moving to the open kit to distract from her moment of poor judgment.

"For now he's stable. His stomach isn't distended, there isn't any bruising that I can see that would tell me if there was internal bleeding or any damaged organs. I can't be sure, without the proper equipment, but like I said he's stable."

She glanced over at him. "It will all scar, though."

Hux scoffed, as if scars were the most insignificant thing he could think of, taking two long strides over to the bedside to look down at her handiwork. "In your opinion, he will live?"

Her lips pursed, she had to be careful there. She couldn't promise anything, things could go wrong without her being able to react. "From the information I have, and with proper rest and psychical therapy, I should think so."

The look on his face as he looked over the carefully patched up man gave Alya the impression he didn't much care for him. She couldn't help but wonder why he had tried so hard to save his life if that were true. Before she could think on it, the General turned on his heel and stalked towards the door and her armed guard. "You will inform me immediately when he wakes. Immediately."

She didn't get the chance to respond, the door having already snapped shut behind him, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. Something had shifted in the room as she spoke with Hux, something he hadn't noticed. Something she _shouldn't_ have. Her eyes slid over to the bed, outwardly there was no change but she was experienced with patients trying to fool her.

"I take it you don't like him either. I don't blame you, he's quite grating, isn't he?" When she does turn his eyes are open, glassy but aware. "You're not going to try to kill me again, are you?"

In any other situation it might have been a statement laced with sarcasm, but not then. She watched him cautiously, almost curious, for any sign he might attack. Not that she thought he would be any more successful than the last time, but caution had to be taken. He was dangerous, she would have had to be a youngling not to realize it, and she had no desire to be on the receiving end of his anger.

"Who are you?"

Her hand ran through her hair, a nervous gesture that made her glad she'd already cleaned his blood from her fingernails.

"Your doctor, unfortunately. I'm none too excited about it either, if you hadn't noticed. You were beaten quite soundly, you're lucky you're even awake." He didn't like the mention, she guessed he'd lost his fight, and didn't respond. She took the opportunity of his silence to keep him completely informed, her old medic instincts starting to kick in.

"He said to tell him when you were awake, but you should still be sleeping. You're body has been through a trauma, it needs to recover."

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossing in front of her chest, her irritation at the whole situation rising to the forefront. "If you don't trust me, that's fair, but I didn't save your life just to kill you. You die, I die. Simple as that."

"I can't."

For a second she thought she might have imagined it. His face barely shifted, his eyes narrowed at the ceiling above them, but she knew something was going on. It could have been pure exhaustion, it could have been her words, or it could have simply been the weight of his thoughts that made him speak up. Whatever it was, it was the first honest emotion she'd seen on him and she wouldn't waste it.

"Trust me?"

"Sleep. I can't."

His tone was final, as if he thought there was genuinely no other option for him. She didn't pity him, but if there was something going on in his head, something big enough that he was convinced he wouldn't sleep? That in itself was something that made her heart crack open, just a bit.

"Too many thoughts? Or just one big thought that's taking up all that space?"

She didn't trust him, didn't _know_ him, but something passes through his eyes and all she wants to do is fix it. Old healer instincts, her teacher would have told her. Do no harm, she thought with another three deep breaths.

His eyes snapped back to her when she slid her uncomfortable chair closer, and she could see how tired he was. Her hand reached out slowly, not wanting to trigger any harmful reflexes towards her. Fingers brushed against the skin of his forehead and she could practically feel the turmoil going on in his mind. That, at least, is something familiar. Something she'd done many times for children in her city with nightmares.

"What is your name?" She kept her voice calm and soothing, letting herself pretend he was just another patient. It took a long moment before he responded, she wasn't sure if he would at all.

"Ren." He almost seemed to choke on the word, but when he spoke again his tone was sure. "Kylo Ren."

"Ren," she repeated back to him, brushing dark hair away from pale skin, "you need sleep. You're so tired, you're in pain. Sleep will help."

There was a warmth, a feeling she'd known for years but hid for her own safety, and she pressed it forward through her hands. She could feel him fight it, but he was not in his best shape. Her power wasn't strong, it wouldn't suffer an assault, but she was thinking he wanted to let her win. His eyes slide closed, and she couldn't help the little smile on her lips.

"Sleep. There will be peace, no dreams, no orders. You can rest now."


End file.
